After the Screams
by Triskelion
Summary: Description of a Death Eater attack referred to in GoF.


Disclaimer: This is fanfiction.net – therefore this is fan fiction and does not belong to me.  
  
Author's Note: Reviews are welcome!  
  
  
  
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He could hear them screaming.  
  
The man's hoarse shrieks of pain beat at his ears, tortured, tearing screams. Mingled with them came the woman's agonized cries. "Stop it – he told you, we don't know anything – stop it – stop it – *don't* – stop it – *you're killing him!*"  
  
Through the crack in the almost-shut library door, he could see the room.  
  
Four dark shadows, robed in black, towering to the roof. Black as darkness itself, hard and cold as ice, devastatingly real against the dim, wavering background of walls, windows, and overturned furniture.  
  
Laughter. Soft, amused laughter from one of the figures, audible as the screams cut off abruptly. A man's voice, menacing, angry, and cruel. "We know you are hiding something. Speak! What do you know? *Where is the Dark Lord?* Answer us, or -"  
  
A wand, tip rising slowly upward to point at the woman. "Maybe *she* will speak, yes?"  
  
A cracked, raw whimper. "No … no, she doesn't know. We … don't … know … anything…" Scornful chuckles. The voice gained strength from some hidden reservoir, almost rising above a whisper. "We know nothing! You won't get away with -"  
  
Then that word, harsh as the crack of a whip. A Death Eater's tool, a Death Eater's toy. Unforgivable, irreversible. "Crucio!"  
  
And the woman screamed. And screamed. And cried out for help, words twisting and incomprehensible, while the man cried out her name in a frenzy of helplessness until a second shadow spoke the word again.  
  
Help. Stop them. Make it stop. Help me. It hurts, stop it. Please. Oh, God, it hurts.  
  
Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Years. Time compressed to a moment, a moment stretched to infinity. Fear and pain and anger and hatred.  
  
The Aurors came, knowing one of their own was threatened, but too late, too surprised. It was over, wasn't it? Why this, why now?  
  
They fought. Curses flew, furniture smashed, walls exploded outwards. The house trembled; the heavy bookcases smashed down. Blood pooled on the floor underneath him, but he could still hear over the dizzy ringing in his ears, still pick himself up and crawl toward the door despite the splitting pain racing through his back, throbbing behind his eyes.  
  
He could see them now - men shouting and a woman, voice frozen with a pride and a fury of hatred he had never heard before, crying out her allegiance. "We are the Dark Lord's! You cannot defeat us!"  
  
She was wrong. She fell silent when the Aurors took her away, bound. They were all silent in the end. Everyone. Even the Aurors and the mediwizards who crouched over limp, contorted bodies and looked at each other, grim and grieved.  
  
They didn't speak, not even to scream anymore, as the Aurors lifted them up. They were quiet, quiet, so very quiet. Why didn't they speak? It was over. They were safe. Everything would be all right. Wake up, say something.  
  
*Ennervate.*  
  
She cried out, moaned, twisted away from the nurse's gentle hands. "It's going to be all right, dear, lie still. You're safe." Darting, wild eyes, uncomprehending, crazed with fear. An animal's wounded cries.  
  
"How long…? Oh. Hope? I'm afraid not. I've never seen one recover. Lie still, dear, lie still."  
  
*Ennervate.*  
  
He didn't move. Vacant, unseeing eyes – empty. A meaningless smile. Empty and silent.  
  
"No, they'll live … if you can call it life. No, if anything, he's worse. I'm sorry. I know they were your friends. Yes, notify the family, by all means."  
  
Such a shame … filthy Death Eaters … such wonderful people … unforgivable … poor little child … no, I don't think so, they'll have to go to St. Mungo's Hospital… ward for insanity … *insane* … the baby? No, it'll never be born. Do you think any pregnancy can survive *this* curse? Four months … a girl … two years old – a boy – it's not a fatal injury … why? … Death Eaters don't need a reason to torture and kill … one of the best Aurors I ever knew … they revel in death and pain … my best friend – I don't know what I'll do without her … in Azkaban now, thank God … my son? *Mad?* Oh, God… they're less than human, monsters, beasts … deserve to die … didn't deserve this, such wonderful young people … my grandson, I'll take care of him … every Death Eater should rot in Azkaban … the Cruciatus Curse should never have been created … they'll never recover.  
  
The silence of a clean white room. Two beds, sheets crisp and straight. Soft footsteps, echoing. Hesitation. Fear. Go ahead, dear, speak to them. Maybe the sight of you will bring them back. Don't be afraid.  
  
"Mummy? Daddy?"  
  
I'm not scared. They're looking at me. Through me. They're not answering. Why don't they *look* at me?  
  
Mummy. Daddy, *please.*  
  
Silence and emptiness. A moan, a whimper, cringing away.  
  
Mummy.  
  
A scream of terror.  
  
"Come away, Neville, come away. It's all right – she didn't mean it, dear, she's … sick. It'll be all right. Maybe it's too soon. Come, we'll go home. Say good-bye."  
  
"Did they say anything, Mrs. Longbottom? Did bringing him help?"  
  
"I don' t know what to do, nurse. It's been two months. There's no change. My own son doesn't know me and now … no, they said nothing. They -- they don't know him either. I had hoped … but they didn't react."  
  
"Is he all right?"  
  
"He's two years old. I don't know how much he understands. He shouldn't have to see his parents like this. Nurse… they're not going to get better, are they?"  
  
Three words. "No. I'm sorry."  
  
Not going to get better. Insane. *They don't know me.* Never again.  
  
Why?  
  
Already gone.  
  
"Good-bye."  
  
************  
  
If you liked this or disliked it or thought that my writing style was simply terrible, please write a review and tell me so. I'm currently in the process of writing a few other stories about Neville Longbottom, so any criticism would be very welcome. 


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